May, 2011
hi everyone,
finally in from the mountain villages for a day and will try to send this journal..
if the hydro allows me.....will rush thru it..will not deal with grammar etc....
so arrived in manilla feeling like a stuffed animal,so swollen, almost bursting at the seams, after a sixteen hour non stop flight from toronto...left wed ...arrived friday...we somehow missed thursday with the time change... we are exactly twelve hours ahead here..so midnight here..noon at home..
with all the many places i have travelled throughout my life i have never been on a sixteen hour non stop..with seats so narrow there was no room to put my feet...my feet did not complain until about the tenth hour, even though exercising them and walking around the plane...they still rebelled and swelled up like i was about to become an elephant..
even when i travelled to africa many years ago, we had a stop over in amsterdam which lessened the stress on my then very young body..
arrived in manilla...not the most exciting city I have ever visited...not one thing pleasing to my eye there...
all concrete with no open space,where the bumper to bumper traffic and smells of diesel fumes become part of the cityscape....no colour, no warmth...but HOT...no emotion...
i remember long ago arriving in nairobi....with its traffic and chaos but intense beauty and aromas...
our kind and gracious host mom in a village 2 hours from manilla...our base camp ..so to say..sister of the group leader ...who arranged the mission/volunteer services...had her drivers drive us to her elegant sprawling villa filled with tropical fruit gardens and colourful flower gardens with waterfalls and bridges across goldfish filled ponds...with its caged python whose old skin, just removed the night before, lay beside him, like an old pair of trousers taken off in a fit of tired drunkennes......and thrown onto the floor...
experiencing two extremes ....this famiy, a weathy family in the philippines with their private drivers and private guards..and a permanent staff of many locals who are always around to fulfil your every need.....and then off to the mountain villages to our mission, with indigenous peoples who own absolutely NOTHING but the cloth they are covered with...and a bed mat made of bamboo,... along with some cooking utensils..
but appear to be as happy as any millionaire...or should i say billionaire these days..
in order to aclimatize us, to both the extreme heat and the time change, before heading out on our medical mission, we were taken on a trip through the northern tropical mountain range. ..there were so many twists and hairpin turns in these mountain jungle roads, that we had many stops along the narrow steep roadside areas for those with not so strong stomachs... to my delight...i was not one of them...having had motion sickness all my life... i must say i was proud of myself... these roads reminded me of the times when my son, Julian, was a toddler, travelling the Blue Mountain range in jamaica, with such steep hairpin turns ... travelling with the locals with their chickens and other animals...with spaces so tight that there was only room for one foot on the bus floor..the other was twisted around your other leg somehow...and always ..the kind jamaicans offering to hold julian so he would not be trampled on...
many hours and a short plane trip later...we arrive at a little lagooned paradise with waters so turquoise and sand bleached white...with the jungle rambling down to the beaches...
and small huts to be our new temporary home ...ten to a room...advertised as the
royal suite...so with all of us cramped into these tiny rooms, we certainly learned to be tolerant of each others idiocyncrasies?? ....like the bug drama queen, who screamed at every bug she saw...her very tolerant fiance with magazine in hand in an ever ready stance to kill (bugs) on demand...crawly ones, flying ones and creeping ones...some we tried to save and put outdoors
only to let ten more in.
we swam in the warm waters of the south china sea...a first for me...but in the most northerly part of the philippines...
our host refusing to take us to the south...explaining how he always had to have a bodyguard in those areas...as groups were known to kidnap white people....
our first evening there, sitting alone by the ocean bar hut, never having been a real drinker.. but just a few days before the first anniversary of gerrys passing...and feeling broken... with him constantly on my mind,...i decide to have a shot of tequila...
tequila, the one drink that gerry and i would always have in the evening, all those splendid evenings we spent together in mexico...
so, sitting under the bamboo hut...talking to ger....telling him i am having a drink in his
memory and thanking him for being my treasure on earth...in walks the head bartender,
a very gentle man....who says to me in his slightly broken but soft spoken english...
hi, im gerry..just brought you our best tequila....his name tag actually read..hi, im gerry...
so...to MY gerry...thanks once more...i know you are just letting me know you are around
and taking good care...as you always said you would..
and then an email from julian about his very spiritual experience in Los Angeles...
just HAPPENING to be along the same mountain road as gerry always motorcycled up those many years ago when he lived in LA. at age 20,...finishing his masters of fine art...this road being closed for many years now due to fires...and just reopened. unknown to julian...but remembering all those stories gerry used to tell us over the years about his adventures up this mountain...mt baldy.. so whether this is irony..or not...there is a spirituality about it ....feeling gerrys beautiful presence ....
it is may 20, 2011...exactly one year since gerrys passing....my mind goes into reminiscent mode ...thinking of how my family.. jason and jennifer...jonathan and tina ...had recently visited from afar to say their last goodbyes to ger... and how julian arrived home from the cannes film festival...gerry smiled when he saw julian...even though gerry could not speak...how julian and alejandra and i stayed up all night with gerry...his breathing laboured...knowing his spirit was leaving...but holding and hugging him....and keeping him safe... and the gust of wind that came thru that window behind him...and just as suddenly left...the angels, said julian..came to take his spirit..and it was...
then, gerrys last breath...
and the funeral professionals much later that day...taking him away..
after weeping to the emotion and the beauty of it all...to nina simones..
gerrys favourite spiritual...nearer blessed lord...cranked up throughout the house and garden.....as julian said..holding us steady...
gerrys one last visit to our beautiful garden.... as the funeral professionals carried him
to the hearse through our garden...
then driving down our long steep driveway...
and we lost sight of them....of him...
our last...
and at the incredible day of celebration we had for him in our beautiful garden ..
as was his request....and the announcements that week of thunderstorms for the day..
and how i just knew there would be no thunderstorms...
it was the most beautiful day of the year...with our rosebush...which rarely produces
many roses....having thirty that day...
and remembering his promise to us...to always be there for us...
and somehow i know he is....
last week...while walking through some jungle....i heard a whistle...
it was the exact whistle that gerry used to do when he could not find me..
whether in a store...or on a walk..or in our garden...or wherever...
when he wanted me close...
it was probably a bird...
BUT...back to the present..,travelling through these small mountainous villages, with their petite indigenous peoples...who have never seen white people before...nor have they ever seen a doctor or a dentist...but badly in need of and so appreciative of our medical team... the timing is just right for me... wishing i was home..with gerry....but happy i am here...
a salad of emotions... but still missing ger....as mildred bailey often sang on our stereo..
missing you ...more than ever...
my heart broken in a million pieces.. but somehow...feeling like two or three pieces put back together...
so., slowly...i am at least going in the right direction... and thanking god for this experience..and my many friends and family...
for helping me through this torturous year....
and as joe cocker, sang so often, way back in the eighties...
.... I.ll get by with a little help from my friends....
with much love and besos..to all...xo
hi again...
amazed at the computer connection..
has been so difficult..
but here we go again...
in from the mountain villages today, where our make-shift medical/dental clinic runs extremely efficiently, using lawn chairs for dental chairs and boxes for walls...and considering we must keep all equipment sterile in these HOT, dusty places in the rugid mountainous terrain...with no running water, .. we must transport everything we need, including huge jugs of water needed for medical purposes and items right down to every gauze pad we use...a truckload of equipment...and then we must return with every piece of garbage...nothing to be left behind..
hours of organization goes into all this, even before we begin our REAL job ...working with the natives. the indigenous mountain people today all lined up outside the make-shift clinic...waiting for their number...had been lined up and waiting since before dawn...
happy to aid the ones we can...but sorrowful that some have to be turned away.. as their
problems are bigger than what we are prepared for... mothers with sick babies and extremely bent over elderly... we will try to get them help somehow..
barefoot, curly haired, very dark skinned children running around the village and climbing
on to our porch railing trying to get a glimpse of these weird white people...
they are such a physically petite tribe that i tower over even the tallest of men..
back to our host villa for the evening, before heading out again in the early morning..
our clinics start at 7 a,m. and end at 9...not a.m...but p,m,...and hot...so hot that i feel
like i am standing over a bonfire...for someone who is never bothered by the heat.
i feel like i am on fire.. we are all so dehydrated that no one pees all day...coupled with the fact that there is no place to pee.. unless in the bush...with a major audience..
we all return drenched with sweat, dusty and dirty..and full of who knows what germs..
but having constantly, all day long, poured rubbing alcohol over our hands, when not gloved.. to try to kill some of them..
so after i shower and SCRUB.... i decide to wash a few t-shirts and undies, but am caught by one of the ever present staff of this villa...she is disturbed that i am doing my own laundry.. they do not speak english, but we communicate by some sort of sign and eye contact...so i let her finish my wash...she is much happier..
and now pouring myself a glass of water...but approached again by another disturbed staff member ...she takes the glass from me and brings it to me on a tray out to the porch.
so, out to the courtyard patio...to do more reading and writing...one staff member comes out immediately with a fan for me...i motion to her that i am fine..no need for a fan..
a few moments later, another,,,with the same mission..
by the time the third one comes out, micki, whom i am very fond of..i just let him..or her turn it on.. and i realize that they are all probably worried about not having a job if i don't let them serve me.. so. as difficult as it is... i decide to ask them to do everything for me..
but micki, not sure if he is a she ...or she is a he...a very sweet and kind young teenager who no one...not even micki, knows what micki is....but thankfully, everyone here is very accepting...
i am rather fond of micki's kindness and constant attention ....i receive always with a heartfelt smile...she compliments me on my 'dresses'...she takes me for rides on her very antiquated motorcycle... i can't believe i actually go on it...after gerry's state of the art rides... micki detours off the main road to back alleys to show off this white person...me...to her relatives... micki has the cutest little wiggle when he/she walks..and wears frilly tops with VERY tight short shorts.. with hair tied up with a clip... but a heart filled with kindness...
yikes....monsoon season beginning...and just heard warning of a violent tropical storm approaching.. but it, at the last minute, made a turn in its path and missed the Philippines...with warnings of tsunamis and monsoons all around us...but sunny here and hot with intensely blue skies...
yikes, another surprise...they are feeding the python... a live chicken...put in its cage...
ALIVE, and the python...as he snuggles up to it...wraps itself....
OH....maybe i won't finish telling this tale...because i heard chicken bones cracking...
so..off to bed...for a 5 a.m.wake up call....
and next morning...off again...driving through the lush, rugid, winding mountainous, intensely hot terrain.. with our caravan of volunteers and supplies, we finally arrive at our next village clinic... we were ushered into the 'health' compound by 4 ft high male guards in full army fatigue... with fully loaded rifles, as tall as they were, strung over their shoulders, looking like they were willing and ready to shoot at the slightest event...
at one point we heard a shot...but it was only one of the balloons we brought for the children, bursting in the heat of the sun.. they lazily sat around the heat of the compound, 'guiarding' us against any act of terrorism..half asleep...
at one point, one guard came over to the clinic to be checked...
i was the lucky one to have to take his blood pressure... in order to get at his arm to put the blood pressure cuff on... i had to 'help' him remove his loaded rifle from his shouder... i refrained from breathing for some time...fearful that a breath too deep may set it off...
and at the end of the day....all very appreciative of our help....a few teenagers who had attended the clinic, looked me straight in the eye and then bowed with a 'thank you'...salamat...
so to god and to you and to gerry...for all watching over me....
and to the universe for giving me the opportunity to meet these very spiritual people..
i say....'salamat'
hope all is well....hasta...and besos.....madeleine
Roosters screaming.....our 5 a.m. wake up call.....a cacophony of sound...
Off to our next mission in an hour....
But the aroma of tocino...bacon... fills the air...
The staff is already in the kitchen preparing breakfast...but memories of last night’s dinner makes my stomach squeamish at the thought of bacon.
Last night, pork with sweet sauce for dinner... I was sucking on a bone...I love sucking on bones, the tastiest part...and as I took it out of my mouth, I realized that the ‘bone’ still had a toe nail attached to it.
I know that most cultures, other than our North American affluent society, use all parts of the animal. I have memories of my grandmother making soup with chicken legs...and feet ...
and of a time in Mexico when Gerry and I were walking down the street, to the aroma of pozole soup,a national dish, being made in a gigantic pot...with the whole cow’s foot sticking out from under the lid...
But the thought of that ‘toe’ still nauseates me...
I have a fast shower before the line up begins...but to my surprise, I have company in the shower this morning...but not the kind I want...a fat juicy two inch unidentified insect landing on my shoulder...
I scream...
Now understanding the bug drama queen...in come running three staff members... lucky no lock on the door. The staff, ready to stomp on this now frightened creature...the bug, not me...as I plead, me, with my now naked overweight body (too much rice)...not to kill it..
Thankfully, they gently sweep it out.
Now off to our next mission for a few days...
We set up our mission this time, not in the mountains, but in a neighbouring village...in the courtyard of a vine-covered, ancient Benedictine Monastery, built in 1547, with its bell tower crumbling with age and pollution...with a meandering garden as ancient as the monastery itself, with 200 year old tamarind trees , jack fruit twice the size of my head, so large and ripe, sitting in the croch of the tree waiting to be picked, avocado and pomelo trees and fruits that I have never tasted before, and wildflowers and cosmos, and wildgrasses and vines, all surrounding the monastery...
and two affectionate but scrawny looking kittens suckling the pet dog, who has no milk, but who seems to be enjoying the company of the two little kittens...
Strolling through another century, we walk through secret gardens to a quiet meditative corner with a shrine to St. Benedict, known to be protector against evil spirits...and a relic of Mother Teresa, an actual piece of her hair tucked into a cross...
So spiritual in its solitude... feeling the ever presence of God...
and the Church Bell...high in the deep blue skies, gonging every hour...the REAL gonging of a church bell...
with us, in the crowded clinic, with line-ups of patients awaiting our care...with blood stained gauze pads filling the garbage bags, the stench of rotted teeth...but a wedding taking place in the tiny chapel next to us, with bats hanging from the ceiling and the nuns’ choir singing angelic tones...like from the heavens...
and lunch time approaches...
after many hectic hours working in the clinic...so hot that we are all drenched, dripping sweat from head to toe and my legs aching from standing for such long hours...
somehow, the mixture of blood, the stench...and the aroma of the freshly made sweet curry just cooked by the nuns, do not sit well with my stomach...
And just now, the nuns with this monastery as their home, beckon us to sit down for lunch...
And one of the kind nuns, bringing me a herbal drink, realizing how dehydrated I am, but me, being careful not to drink anything unknown in this new culture, cautiously pour the drinks into the garden...only to have the thoughtful nun refill my empty glass each time she sees it...
And meeting the elegant, poetic nuns...one, whom , as soon as I meet her, I tell her she has the face of an angel. She tells me that her name is Sister Angelica...appropriately named. She is thirty years old and has been in the convent for fifteen years. When I take her photo, there shows up a halo around her head...a reflection from the lights around. She squeals with delight and ponders the fact... maybe she is an angel after all. She denies being bored in the monastery, saying that they pray all day, while they work...using absolutely everything from their garden.
The nuns, in their long, black, flowing ‘habits’, with their arms in the folds of their sleeves, in this ancient and glorious abbey, reminding me of the nuns in the movie, The Sound of Music... and reminiscent of my youth, many years ago, attending a catholic high school and a catholic university, run by nuns.
And at the end of the day, clinic closing, more photos...none of us wanting to say goodbye...
but one last walk through the garden...and Sister Angelica picks a lily and places it behind my ear...and says that I am like a flower...then gives me a hand made card she just made for me...using the bark of the banana palm and dried flowers from the gardens, to make up the design...and on it saying ‘Happy Birthday’. It is not my birthday, but coincidentally, it is my son’s...almost to the exact time of his birth many years ago.
And then, Sister Geraldine, full of gratitude, because I was able to help her bring down her very high blood pressure, to normal range, by doing some therapeutic touch on her. She is transformed from high anxiety to pure calmness when she hears her new numbers, saying that it is a ‘miracle’... (but I remind her that she must see her doctor about this).
Then off to S and M... not the kind you are thinking of...but the local ‘mall’...the store is named SM, but we mistakenly call it S and M...to purchase some last minute items for our trip home...
The mall...breaking the spell of this most spiritual of days.
We are on the glide path now, heading home after these magical few weeks, thankful to our kind-hearted hosts and to the organizer of this mission.
In the Hong Kong airport, I hear announcements of departures to exotic places only dreamed of ...
Kathmandu, Kota Kinabalu, Ho Chi Minh City, Jakarta, Brunei ... and Toronto.
So, home in a few hours...to my magnificent garden...
...But how will I ever wash my own undies again....
Besos ... from me
Besos ... from me
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